


Can't Have It Any Other Way

by exilla



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, allison and andrew are friends because i said so!, somewhat wholesome twinyards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:03:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exilla/pseuds/exilla
Summary: Andrew still not really all that sure why he’s doing this but he doesn’t care as much anymore. It’s interesting.He isn’t bored.





	Can't Have It Any Other Way

**Author's Note:**

> this is for genna for dragging me into andriel hell, hope you enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What can I get for you,” Neil asks, and this time around he’s frowning at Andrew. Staring at him, actually, eyes wide and unpleasant. It’s not a pretty expression by a long shot but it strikes something in Andrew, it's way better than the blank and haunted look he normally sports. 
> 
> “Your name, please."

It feels like a summer evening when Andrew stumbles through the diner door, the sun hot and time crawling by.

It’s not. It’s late spring at best, school tomorrow. Andrew doesn’t think he’ll go, it’s unimportant, doesn’t quite matter in the scheme of things. Especially when he doesn't see that concrete foundation of a future that most do.

He straightens up and throws an elbow behind him without looking, satisfied with the soft stomach he impacts on and the oof of expelled air over his shoulder, grinning, he surveys the near-empty diner; taking in the lurking server, and the fry cook watching them unimpressed through the little window.

“Prick,” Aaron hisses at him and elbows him back on the way past, a sharp thump into Andrew’s ribs that he simply ignores. They head to the table against the giant glass window, Roland ruffling Andrew’s hair as they go, petty revenge on Aaron’s behalf. 

It feels like summer, easy and careless and pointless and he loves it.

They’ve been here a million times before but not for a while and Andrew leans across the table to eye the new waiter as he makes his way, seemingly unwillingly, over to their table.

He's got the most atrocious haircut Andrew’s ever seen – or lack thereof, it looks like he hasn’t seen scissors in a couple of years at least – it's a mess of wild bright auburn curls, falling over his forehead and brushing at his cheekbones. He's got a mouth that looks like it’s sneering even though Andrew’s pretty sure the dude couldn’t give less of a shit and a crooked nose, one that looks like it's seen the nasty side of a couple of breaks. 

One thing that catches his eye and sticks in his mind though, are the white scars that crisscross their way over his knuckles and up his forearms, some are wide and short others circular and deep, melted around the edges. A thick mark sits on his cheek under his s eye, the skin raised and heavily scared. A burn mark. 

Andrew's never seen anything quite like it. 

Unconventionally pretty, Andrew finally decides. 

“Can I take your order,” the guy says and he sounds like he’s reading from a script, monotonous and dull. Andrew belatedly glances at his name tag. 

Neil, it reads.

“Sure,” he drawls anyway and glances across the room at the menu. “Hamburger, fries, pepsi.”

Roland says something, orders something and then orders for Aaron when Aaron refuses to say anything. Andrew doesn’t pay attention. He’s trying to make out the color of Neil’s eyes without letting on that he’s staring. They’re pale, whatever they are, and unfocused like he’s looking clear through Andrew and out the other side.

“Coming right up,” Neil says, and his voice is just as blank as before.

Andrew watches him go, lazy and not even bothering to hide that he’s staring now.

Neil.

Pretty Neil, slightly unpleasant and... interesting. Roland is elbowing Aaron relentlessly across the booth, both of them arguing at the top of their lungs now, but Andrew doesn’t stop staring at Neil until he reaches the swinging doors to the kitchen.

:::

It’s dark when they leave, or almost dark. The warm, smearing feeling of a summer evening, the blurry half-vision of twilight as Andrew leads the way across the parking lot. The pavement is warm under his sneakers still, warm from baking in the sunshine. They have school tomorrow but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like nothing’s real but the harsh, cold fluorescent lights of the diner behind them and the shining side of Andrew’s car ahead, looming in the dusk.

“Where next?” he asks when they’ve reached the car, fishing his pack of smokes from his pocket. It takes him a second longer to pat his pockets down for a lighter and he gives up, reaches over and snags the lighter from Aaron’s pocket.

Aaron lets him do it with a narrow look of warning but no comment. He leans against the side of Andrew’s car, careful because Andrew’s trained practically everyone he encounters to be careful around his fucking car.

“Seth’s got something going, I heard,” Aaron offers with a shrug. “Always does.”

Andrew lights his cigarette with a long drag and stares back across the parking lot. He thinks he can kinda make out Neil through the fogged plate glass windows. A small skinny, dark figure with a mop of bright hair, picking up dishes and wiping down tables.

“I dig it,” he says with a fleeting grin around his cigarette, flipping the lighter back to Aaron, snorting when he fumbles it.

Aaron scowls in reaction, but tucks his lighter away. “Whatever, let’s just fuckin’ go, I’m bored as shit.”

“In a minute,” Andrew says lazily and closes his eyes, taking a drag and blowing it in a bright white plume at the sky. He tilts his head up and takes another drag, deep and straight to his lungs this time. It feels a little bit dizzying when he opens his eyes, the fading ribbons of white smoke and the darkness beyond, the solid brilliance of the diner and his brother's ghostly face.

“Rock-paper-scissors for shotgun,” Aaron's saying to Roland, and Andrew blinks the feeling away. Useless feelings for a night like this, a night that means nothing.

Roland looks bemused at the offer. "I thought you hated Andrew's diving?" 

The statement's not untrue, Aaron doesn't trust him to drive safely, as Andrew mostly views the road laws as mere suggestions and not you know, the actual law. 

Dropping his cigarette to sizzle out on the warm pavement, Andrew props himself up against the chill metal side of the car next to Aaron. He takes in the moment, simply basking in it. 

“Rock-paper-scissors,” Aaron repeats stubbornly and Roland caves with a smirk. Aaron heaves himself hips-first off the side of Andrew’s car and shakes his hands free of his jacket pockets.

Aaron loses. 

He climbs into the backseat with minimal bitching, which is surprising considering who is is and Andrew buckles his seatbelt this time, a halfway-sincere attempt to make it up to him. Roland winks at Aaron and props his feet up on the dash, only until Andrew reaches over to shove them off.

“My car, my rules,” he warns, gunning the engine as Roland laughs. 

This is what Andrew fucking lives for, rubber on pavement, tires on roads, forever. Even like this, even with Aaron and Roland squabbling pointlessly over the little stack of cassettes. Even when he can barely flirt with the speed limit.

He swears he was born for this.

:::

Andrew skips first period, and instead sits on the hood of his car in the parking lot across the street from the school. It’s just Biology, nothing important and he’s got a philosophical opposition to dissect anyway, which he finds wholly more engaging that biology. 

He heads inside sometime after the bell for second period’s rung, sliding into his seat in Spanish class with a grin and a wave at an exasperated Mr. Hernandez, who doesn’t bother telling Andrew to see him after class. He knows Andrew won’t go.

Lunch bell rings half an hour later, interrupting aimless doodling and blank boredom. Andrew goes to the lunchroom even though he normally doesn’t. 

He’s a man on a mission today. 

“Neil,” Andrew says, sliding into the empty chair across from Allison. “Tell me about him.”

“Monster,” Allison says, looking up from her phone to slip out an ear bud. She’d been jamming to something, tapping along the table in tandem to the beat that's spilling and loud and undeniably poppy. "Huh?”

“Neil,” Andrew repeats and points boldly.

Neil is sitting across the room in the farthest, most deserted corner of the cafeteria, reading quietly and somehow not taking notice of Andrew’s pointing at all. There's another kid with him, a stern faced boy, and he's talking to Neil pointedly, thick eyebrows furrowed and green eyes narrow. The kid jabs a finger into Neil's shoulder and Neil rolls his eyes, looking up at him. 

“Oh,” says Allison, tugging a hand through her thick corkscrew curls. “Believe it or not, I don't know everyone.”

“Sure you do, Nosey A,” Andrew says and grins his friendliest. Shit-eating to its core. Allison doesn't fall for it just points a perfectly manicured finger at him warningly, before placing a hand on her chin. Distracted.

“You'd probably know as much as me, Monster,” she says with a shrug. “He keeps pretty much to himself. He's more friends Jean and Jeremy. And that kid he's with, that's Kevin.”

Andrew leans back in his seat and stares at the little pair until Kevin looks in their general direction, then he turns back to Allison who's watching him, a tiny smirk crooked on her brightly painted lips

“Right,” Andrew says and reaches over to snag a fry off Allison’s tray. “Thanks, Nosey A.”

“Fuck you,” Allison says, with no bite, and then before he can escape, she calls out, "Oh, and his last name is Josten!" 

Apparently satisfied, she puts her ear buds back in, turning her gaze back down to her phone. Successfully blocking him out once again. 

Neil Josten, Andrew thinks. 

It suits him. 

:::

Andrew goes to his last two classes mostly out of boredom, and not out of actual obligation to do work. He stares out the window in both and doesn’t write down a word the teacher says. 

Instead, he thinks about Neil. About the way thick white scars swirled their way up his arms in a pattern Andrew didn't quite understand, and the way the long oval burn stood out on his high cheekbones. About how brightly his auburn hair was under the white neon lights of the diner and how-

He’ll forget about it, he resolves, and gets up when the bell’s rung, dutifully following the crowd out. He’s reaching for his smokes before he’s even cleared the front door and somewhere behind him he dimly hears an adult voice yelling indignantly, but he’s already gone. 

They can’t catch him when he’s halfway to his car already, cigarette in his mouth.

Allison's waiting for him. She's sitting on the hood of his car near the driver’s side door, leaning back on her palms, watching the fluffy white clouds overhead. Andrew crosses his arms and watches her for a long moment before deciding on what to say. Allison doesn’t seem to notice he’s there, watching the clouds go by with an unreadable expression painted on her face. 

“Thinking hard there, Nosey A?” he asks at last. 

"Unlike some people, I actually like to use my brain,” she intones in a bland manner, turning towards him, face schooled into a look of somber gravity. She snorts a moment later though, breaking façade back to her normal obnoxious self, bouncing in place a little bit. “I asked around about Neil. Just a little bit.”

“You shouldn’t have-,” Andrew jolts to say, but stops when Allison shoots him an unimpressed look, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Andrew suddenly feels like he should defend himself. 

“I got curious,” he said, which is the truth and not at all a lie. “Interesting guy. Not very friendly.”

Allison's smile suddenly looks way too knowing. He doesn't like it. They both hold a solid stream of eye contact for a handful and then some seconds, until Allison breaks it. 

“I’ve got his work schedule and that’s about it,” she admits.

“You're a fucking creep, A,” Andrew says. 

He's not about to admit he's impressed, though.

“You asked!” Allison says indignantly. “If you don't wanna know just say and I'll fuck right off.”

“No, no,” Andrew responds hastily. “Tell me, I wanna know.”

“He works weekdays after school til late,” she says casually and then unhooks herself from Andrew's car, stepping away in her ridiculously high heels and mini skirt before Andrew really has the chance to process what she said. 

He only works it out when she's already stepping off the curb

“Hey!” he shouts after her, but can’t help the small disbelieving laugh that tumbles out, barely more than a puff of air. “I could have figured that out myself, asshole!”

Allison doesn’t turn, just waves vaguely behind her. Andrew can hear her bright, clear laughter as she ambles away, chin held high. 

Asshole.

:::

He waits a few days, goes to school even less than usual and skips lunch. There are piles of detention slips in his otherwise empty locker, overdue and increasingly angry. 

Andrew does what he does best and ignores them all.

On Monday though, he finally gives in to the thought of Neil Josten and visits the diner, making his way through the swinging door and all the way back to the table by the window. Once he's settled, ankles crossed under him, he covertly checks around for Neil. 

He’s there, shaking curly auburn hair out of his eyes and staring blankly through a harried-looking mother as she orders for her three kids. 

He gets a few more minutes to settle in and worm his way into every seating position he knows before Neil makes his way over. His apron doesn’t fit, it's too big for his wiry frame and almost hangs down past his knees; Andrew notices inanely and doesn’t know why he notices. 

“What can I get for you?” Neil asks.

It sounds exactly the same, like he’s reading from a script and wants desperately to be anywhere but here. A long moment of déjà vu and all Andrew can do for a split second is glance across the booth at where Aaron and Roland should be.

Obviously they’re not. It’s been days.

“My name’s Andrew,” he says, recovering. He pushes himself forward with his brightest, most charming smile. The one Aaron constantly refers to as 'deeply unsettling and slightly manic', but whatever. Fuck him. 

Neil blinks and for a moment his face comes alive. Confusion, a little startled. Momentarily he’s actually looking at Andrew instead of through him.

It does wonders for his face. Very pretty for sure, Andrew decides, watching as the burn around Neil's eye crinkles slightly. 

Then Neil’s blinking again and his face is smoothing back to an unfriendly not-sneer.

“What can I get for you,” he repeats.

“Hamburger, fries, pepsi,” Andrew rattles off and leans back in his seat to watch Neil walk away. He’s being an idiot, he knows. He’s giving this too much time and attention, caring too much.

He’s not gonna come back here, he resolves. He’ll forget all about Neil.

:::

“What can I get for you,” Neil asks, and this time around he’s frowning at Andrew. Staring at him, actually, eyes wide and unpleasant. It’s not a pretty expression by a long shot but it strikes something in Andrew, it's way better than the blank and haunted look he normally sports. 

“Your name, please."

Neil glances down at his name tag and then up at Andrew again, disbelieving. 

Andrew simply ignores that whole gesture. 

“I’m Andrew. And you are?” he prompts when the silence has spread itself nice and thick and awkward over them both.

Neil hesitates a moment longer and then sighs long and noisy through his nose, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. His face is suddenly less stiff, more exhausted and annoyed. It’s a subtle change and Andrew watches it happen, rapt.

“If I play your little game will you order something?” 

Andrew gives this the due consideration.

“Hm, that is a possibility."

Neil sighs again, closing his eyes, and then opens them and skewers Andrew with a narrow look that promises nothing good. It’s anything but inviting and Andrew can’t look away.

“Neil Josten,” Neil tells him and then tilts his little notebook up in offering. “Now will you order something?”

“Hamburger, fries, pepsi,” Andrew rattles off and Neil rolls his eyes, flips his notebook shut without writing anything on it. He walks way without saying another word and Andrew watches him go blatantly, leaning over his elbows.

Andrew still not really all that sure why he’s doing this but he doesn’t care as much anymore. It’s interesting. 

He isn’t bored.


End file.
